#it’s such a fucking train wreck and I loved every minute

[spyruce]

If I had a nickel for every time Michael Sheen left David Tennant to try and have a better position I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but I’m damn upset it happened twice.

And just LOOK at this screenshot which is followed by everyone around them deconstructing the sets and the lights flickering while they stare and smile at eachother and it’s so. They are The friends ever and this is my Staged propaganda go watch it.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Without you at home, Bradley's big mouth is about to get him in trouble. As he counts down the hours until he can pick you up from the airport, you wrap up your trip to Maryland with a visit to your childhood home. However, you're not as smooth as you think you are. By the time you get back to San Diego, you are an absolute train wreck, and some secrets have been revealed.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

On Thursday morning, Bradley got to work a little bit early. He just needed to make a tiny detour to one of the database computers. He really wasn't sure if you realized that you told him Commander Patterson's first name last night, or if you let it slip by accident, but now that he knew it, he just wanted to check him out.

Every trip you took to Annapolis turned into some sort of disaster at one point or another. He couldn't imagine you were out there looking for trouble, but it sure did find you in the form of Derek or Josh. You were the most capable person Bradley knew, but he loved and respected you enough to know that sometimes you needed a break. Right now, he just wanted to bring you back home and take care of every tiny need or want that you or the baby might have. He'd honestly fucking delight in that.

As soon as he logged into the system, Bradley typed in your full name, complete with Bradshaw hyphenated at the end. A second later, your image appeared on the screen complete with lovely smile and gorgeous eyes. "That's my Baby Girl," he muttered, still captivated by this photo of you. 

He forced his fingers back to the keyboard, but no results appeared when he looked for Derrick Patterson. He tried Paterson. Then he tried Derick. Then he tried Derek Patterson and saw the face of the asshole who made his wife cry over a steak dinner. Were you more emotional right now than perhaps you would usually be? Absolutely. But that was only because you were pregnant. As soon as you told him you had a positive pregnancy test, Bradley's number one concern in this world simply switched from his wife to his wife and his child. 

This guy looked like a real tool. Forty-four years old. Ranked up to Commander two years ago. Worked in a simulation lab. Had the same degrees from the Naval Academy that you earned. "Yeah, well I can guarantee you're not as smart as her, you motherfucker."

He took another minute to memorize what he saw there before logging out. Maybe he'd ask Maverick about him. Cyclone and Warlock would be good resources, too. Bradley just hated that he wasn't able to make you feel safe and comfortable at the moment, but as soon as he picked you up tomorrow, he'd take care of everything. 

When he started to head out to the tarmac, he literally ran into someone while he was adding steaks to the grocery list he saved in his phone. He didn't know how to cook a steak, but he'd get them just in case you were still in the mood for one. "Sorry," he muttered, not really looking up, too concerned with what else you might want.

"It's okay, Bradley."

Then he did look up into the dark eyes of Maria Wilson. "Hey," he said with a smile at your good friend. "I've been meaning to ask you... how's rooming with Bob going for you?"

"Great," she replied with a little shrug and a completely neutral expression. "He's clean and courteous, and I think the arrangement is going to work out really well." 

If he didn't know better, Bradley would have believed nothing was going on. She was that good. But he did know better. He wasn't going to do Bob dirty, so he just nodded and said, "I hope it does work out. I've always felt a little bad about stealing my wife away from you."

She just laughed and said, "Like we didn't all see that coming a mile away."

He wandered off with a grin on his face after he said goodbye. He was planning on making a few stops on the way home before Jake showed up to workout together later. Bradley just had to get through one more night and then you'd be back.

----------------------------

You were an idiot for eating two steaks and seventeen pounds of sides and then passing out for the night. Sure, at the time, it seemed like the best idea you'd ever had. Derek's porterhouse hit the fucking spot like nothing else. The potatoes were creamy and delectable. The brussels sprouts? A thing of beauty.

But Thursday morning, you were back to your normal routine of throwing up as soon as you got out of bed. "I get it, okay?" you gasped as you sprawled out on the bathroom floor. "I understand," you added, letting your hand settle on your belly. "You miss your Dad. Well guess what. I miss him, too. Now will you stop acting out if I promise to take you home tomorrow?"

A soft gurgle as your stomach started to settle was the response you got, and that was actually better than you could have hoped for. When you heard tapping on your hotel room door, you knew it was Cat, and you wanted to cry. You were wearing Bradley's UVA shirt and a pair of your ratty underwear and nothing else, and she'd just keep knocking until you answered. 

"I'm coming," you moaned, actually crawling most of the way there. You pulled yourself up and then cracked the door open a few inches, and you were met with Cat's appraising eyes. "Hi."

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get breakfast with me," she said cautiously.

"No, I'm good, but thanks for asking." You tried to close the door, but her foot was immediately preventing that. 

"Are you sick?" she asked. "I can bring something back for you."

"No, I'm okay," you told her. Your stomach lurched, and your eyes went wide. You had about ten seconds to get rid of her and make it to the toilet. You didn't know what to do as saliva pooled at the back of your tongue. You started to gag as your eyes filled with tears. 

"Hey," she said softly. "If something's wrong, you can tell me."

But you shook your head and let go of the door, making a mad dash back into the bathroom. You barely made it to your knees in front of the toilet before you barfed again. "Why?" you moaned, wiping your mouth with toilet paper before rolling onto the bath mat which had become your best friend.

"Oh my god," Cat muttered as she walked right into your hotel room bathroom. She flushed the toilet and then turned to the sink and started to fill one of the disposable cups with water. "You're pregnant," she stated plainly. "You could have told me, you know. Congratulations, by the way."

As she knelt on the floor next to you, she helped you sit up. You accepted the cup from her and said, "It's just food poisoning." She blinked at you a few times, giving you no wiggle room to lie to her. "Fine," you admitted with a little smile, "I'm pregnant."

She ran the backs of her fingers along your forehead while you sipped the water. "How far along are you?"

"About nine or ten weeks," you whispered as you closed your eyes for a few beats. "I'm just really tired and really fucking sick. I felt good last night, but now I feel terrible again."

Cat took the empty cup from your hand and wrapped you up in a soft hug. "Thank you for holding it together for the presentation. Now you need to get back into bed."

You shook your head and said, "I need to get up and moving so I can go see my parents later."

"No," she said firmly, guiding you back to the bed. "You need to rest right now. You'll feel better if you do." 

Part of you wanted to make sure your suitcase was closed so she didn't see your vibrators, but mostly you didn't even care. She had a certain way about her that was calming you down, and as soon as you were in the bed, she tucked you in. You almost believed her when she told you that resting would help you feel better. 

"Where's your room key?" she asked once you were curled up on your side.

You let one hand sneak out from under the covers and pointed. "Next to the TV."

She patted your shoulder and promised she would be back soon, and then she was gone. You dozed on and off while your stomach gurgled, and you missed a few texts from Bradley. When Cat eventually opened your door and let herself in, you were actually feeling hungry. And that's when you noticed two bags and a cup carrier in her hands. 

Quietly, she set everything down on your nightstand including some orange juice that almost brought a tear to your eye. Somehow she knew that was what you needed when you didn't even know yourself. You sat up as she poked a hole in the lid and handed it to you, and you drank half of it down in one sip.

"You need to eat something," she whispered, taking the cup away again. "I got you a bagel with cream cheese, an egg sandwich, a few different kinds of donuts and a muffin."

You reached for the bagel, and she unwrapped it for you. "I'll pay you back," you rasped, but she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. Just make the baby happy, and we're square," she replied as she sank down into the chair beside the bed.

But you were definitely going to worry about it. Money was very tight for Cat and Jeremiah, so you would have to figure out a way to make it even. She probably spent about forty bucks on all of this for you, and somehow she knew that a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese would go down as happily as the steaks did. You devoured the whole thing and then took some bites out of the egg and cheese sandwich before finishing the orange juice. 

Then you drank some of the hot tea as well and nibbled on a muffin, and you felt so much better. Cat asked you a few questions, but she didn't pry. "Bradley must be over the moon," she said softly with a sad smile. 

"Oh yeah," you told her, knowing that her ex-husband did not have a relationship with Jeremiah. "He dubbed the baby the chicken nugget." When she laughed, you added, "He's very excited to be a dad."

"He'll be a good one," she confirmed with a nod. "Now why don't you rest for a few more hours, and then I can drop you off at your parents' house so you don't have to drive."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll drop you off and then go to the outlet mall. There are some things I want to get for Jer, and then I can pick you up again." She probably knew it wasn't a good idea to let you drive like this, and you were honestly kind of thankful that she offered.

"Alright." You fell asleep again as soon as she was gone.

--------------------------

When Bradley left work, it was blazing hot out, and he had his aviators on while he walked to the parking garage. It was already late as hell in Maryland, and he was a little afraid you had already left your parents and gone back to the hotel for the night. But your phone only rang briefly before you answered his FaceTime call.

"Bradley," you sighed, looking better than he'd seen you in weeks. "Here, say hi to everyone."

You turned your phone to reveal both of your parents along with Cat, sitting around the dining room table in the house where he was finally getting used to spending his holidays. They all greeted him warmly before your mom took the phone and asked him at least a dozen questions.

"Are you eating enough without her at home? How's work? How's Tramp? When can we come visit again, because she's not giving us a clear answer?"

She said nothing about the baby, so Bradley assumed you were holding yourself together well enough that it hadn't been mentioned. "I've been subsiding on cereal. Work is great. Tramp is great. I've been thinking about starting a project to expand the upstairs into another bedroom or two, so hopefully after that's finished, you and dad can stay as long as you want."

Bradley knew they would feel like a handful for him if they stayed at the house again, but that was only because he liked being alone with you. He really wanted to take a minute to talk to you privately, but your dad took the phone next so he could show off his latest painting project. When he finally got handed back to you, apparently it was time for you and Cat to head out. 

"I'll let you know when the flight leaves tomorrow," you told him. "Love you, Roo."

And that was it. With a deep sigh, he started up the red Bronco and headed to the store on his way home. He hated shopping in his uniform; he always got a bunch of looks from people, mostly women. He tried to make it quick, but it took him a little time to gather up steaks, potatoes, garlic, your favorite coffee, and all of the yellow flowers in the floral section. 

He barely had all of the food put away at home when Jake knocked twice on the front door before letting himself in the house. "It's like he fucking lives here," Bradley muttered to Tramp who had been waiting for his scoop of dinner before he ran to see Jeremiah.

"Hey, man," Jake called out. He had Cat's son tucked under one arm and some weird contraption under the other, and he was wearing gym clothes. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, unable to keep himself from smiling when Jeremiah reached out for him. He took the little boy in his arms and told him, "I had to get some stuff for my wife. You remember her. She's your favorite babysitter. She read you some books while you fell asleep, because her voice is the sweetest thing in the world."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Angel made you soft, old man."

Bradley pointed to Jeremiah. "And this little thing made you soft, so you don't have a leg to stand on."

He just kind of shrugged in response and took the child back as he said, "Go get changed. I'll meet you in the garage."

As Jake disappeared through the sliding glass door, Bradley headed to the bedroom. He stripped out of his uniform and put on some shorts and a Top Gun shirt that was starting to fit a little snug across his biceps and chest again. This was a good sign, because he wanted to bulk up as much as possible. He'd be ready to haul the baby and all of the gear around so you didn't have to. 

His thoughts were on you and the baby. You. Baby. You. Baby. He couldn't wait until both of you were home tomorrow. When he walked out to the garage, he found Jake doing a few pushups while Jeremiah played with a stuffed tiger while he sat in some sort of portable crib.

"What is that thing?" Bradley asked as he reached for his lifting gloves. "A mini crib?"

Jake jumped to his feet as he said, "It's called a pack 'n play, but yeah, it's kind of a mini crib that folds up."

"Huh," he replied, eyeing it up so he could search online for that kind of thing later. "Looks handy. We're definitely going to need one of those."

Jake was frozen in place, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. "Is Angel pregnant? I knew her ass looked bigger." A grin curled along his lips, and that was when Bradley realized he had fucked up.

"Oh, shit," he muttered as his heart rate sped up and he started to sweat. You were going to be so upset. Your own parents didn't even know yet, but now Jake did, and it was all his fault.

"She's pregnant!" Jake practically shouted. "Congratulations, Rooster," he said, pulling Bradley into a hug and slapping him on the back. "You finally figured out which hole to put it in, huh?" he asked with an absolutely obnoxious grin.

Bradley glared at him. "Seriously. Nobody else knows about this yet. She might murder me if she finds out you know."

"I won't say shit about it," Jake promised, cuffing him on the shoulder before releasing him. "Damn, she must be excited. I know you both wanted this."

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just knowing his face must be flushed pink. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm so fucking happy and scared and nervous, I can barely make it through a day without her here, you know?"

Jeremiah roared and held up the tiger for Bradley. He took it and made it roar back before pretending it was kissing Jeremiah all over his face. His laugh was infectious, and it left Bradley smiling. 

"Damn," Jake drawled. "I think you're ready for the parenting thing."

"I know I am," he replied, fixing him with a serious look. "I'm ready."

Jake sighed and nodded. "But you still have a lot to learn. Do you know about outlet covers?"

Bradley's eyes went wide. "No. What are those?"

"How about white noise to help a baby sleep? Do you know what a convertible car seat is?"

"No," Bradley whispered, "No, I don't."

Jake settled back onto the bench and reached for the barbell. "Spot for me, and I'll tell you everything I've learned."

------------------------

It was finally Friday morning, and Cat was knocking on your door with another round of food and orange juice before you were even out of bed. When you let her in, she set everything up on the nightstand while you went to use the bathroom, and you were pleasantly surprised that you didn't need to throw up while you were in there.

"Eat as much as you can," she told you. "I asked them to give you a late checkout, so you can stay here until noon, and then we'll head to the airport."

"You're a saint," you told her with a mouth full of bagel. "I owe you so much money for this, you have to let me pay you back."

She just shook her head. "I'll let you babysit Jer so Jake and I can go out one night. Assuming I'm still in a relationship after we get bad to San Diego later tonight."

"You will be," you told her as you sipped the orange juice. "Jake isn't stupid." You paused before you set the juice down in favor of a donut. "Well... he's kind of stupid, but not when it comes to this."

Cat reached into the bag for another donut. "Seriously, if he and Bernie can't figure their shit out, I'll pull the plug and never look at another man again."

"Sometimes they really aren't worth the aggravation," you remarked, thinking back to every guy you dated before Bradley. "But sometimes they surprise you."

She didn't say anything else as she finished her donut. Then she let you take a nap, and when you got up and got dressed, you felt pretty amazing. Your stomach was gurgling quietly, and you looked okay enough to skip the makeup today. 

You dragged your suitcase out into the hallway and texted Bradley, letting him know you were going to be heading to the airport soon, and he responded almost immediately. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll meet you in baggage claim sweetheart. i can't wait to have you and the nugget back home with me

You practically moaned, and also started tearing up as Cat met you in the hallway. "When willI I be normal again?" you whispered. "All I want to do is have rough, frequent sex with my husband, but every time I think about how sweet he is, I start crying."

She laughed and said, "You won't feel normal until about six months postpartum. Just have fun running that man ragged."

You nodded and wiped at your tears. "Where's our equipment bin?"

"Already in the car."

"You weren't supposed to move it alone! It's so heavy."

"And you shouldn't be carrying anything like that at all," she scolded, pushing you gently toward the elevators. "I took care of it. I'll take care of it all day, and I'll get your suitcase when we get to the airport, too."

You sobbed the whole way down in the elevator and most of the ride to the airport. When you said thank you, Cat told you to be quiet which made you smile and also cry more. You'd get Bradley to agree to watch Jeremiah for a whole weekend. It would give the two of you some practice, and it would give Cat and Jake time alone. There was no way he was going to mess anything up.

--------------------------

Bradley parked the red Bronco at the airport with a vase of flowers in the cup holder and an ultrasound picture tucked into the visor. Your flight had been delayed a few times, and he figured you were probably starving now. He picked up the container of peanut butter crackers he prepared and started to head inside, still a little too early but with nothing better to do.

He found an empty bench, and it wasn't long before Jake came strolling in with Jeremiah in his arms. Bradley stood up, jostling the snack container as he muttered, "You're not going to say anything to her, right?"

"Relax," Jake replied as Jeremiah reached for the crackers. "I won't say a word about her being pregnant. You can count on me."

That actually made him feel a lot more nervous as he opened up the container, broke a cracker in half and handed it to Jeremiah. "Okay. Just pretend you don't know a thing about it."

He watched Jeremiah get crumbs all over Jake's shirt as Jake checked his phone. "Sure. Hey, they landed. Cat said they're walking off the plane now."

Bradley checked his phone, but there was absolutely nothing from you, which was really strange. "Huh." He stood there awkwardly as he'd been left out of the loop, handing the other half of the cracker to Jeremiah when he reached for it. 

He watched Jake typing one handed, and then he said, "Apparently there was a ton of turbulence. Angel got pretty sick." When he met Bradley's eyes, he kind of shrugged. "Sounds like she's in bad shape."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair until it was sticking up at an odd angle. "What's that supposed to mean? How is she in bad shape?" He looked over toward the partition that blocked off the area he wouldn't be able to get past without a boarding pass while he started to panic. Was he going to have to take you to the hospital or something? The cereal and potato chips he had for dinner started to sour in his stomach as he started walking in that direction. 

Then he saw you, and he started running. Cat had her arm around you, and she was carrying your tote bag along with her backpack while you sipped a can of ginger ale through a straw. Bradley could see fresh tears in your eyes as they met his. "Oh, Sweetheart."

"Roo," you croaked, and he closed the rest of the distance to you and carefully took you in his arms. "I was horrible."

Cat took the ginger ale from your hand, and you collapsed against him, a sobbing, shaking mess. "It's okay," he promised you. "You're home now, and I will take care of everything."

You nodded against his chest, and he let you cry. "I threw up so much. I was fine, but then it was really rough, and the baby hates me anyway." You cried harder, and then Jake was there with Jeremiah. He took the container of crackers so Bradley could rub your back with both hands. You hiccupped against him and mumbled, "You can say what you want. Cat knows. She guessed it. Then she took care of me."

Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that someone who had been pregnant before was able to tell that you were now. "Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. He held you close and gave both Cat and Jake a stern look. "Do you want to go ahead and tell Jake?" he asked carefully. 

"Yeah," you groaned, leaning toward Jake slightly. "I'm pregnant."

If Jake didn't get Bradley out of this debacle safely, he was going to ban him from the home gym. But he should have known that above anything else in this scenario, Jake was going to have your back.

"Aww, Angel," he crooned as Jeremiah climbed into Cat's arms. "I'm so happy for you, mama." Then he kissed your cheek and winked at Bradley. "You'll be a natural, and ol' Rooster here's gonna be a class act. Now why don't you let him take you home? I can get the bin of your work stuff."

"You sure?" Bradley asked, giving Jake a discreet fist bump as you buried your face against his chest again. You were half burrowed inside his tropical print shirt at this point, and his undershirt was damp; he just wanted to get you home.

"We'll take care of it," Cat promised. "She's dehydrated. Make sure she drinks water or gatorade. And she needs to try to eat something." Jake handed the crackers back to Bradley. "Yeah, those might work, but she really needs to keep drinking."

"Got it," Bradley replied, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, Cat."

"It was my pleasure," she said with a smile as she cuddled Jeremiah. 

"Let's go, Baby Girl," Bradley whispered, leading you to get your suitcase as you sipped the ginger ale and nibbled on a cracker. He kept his hand at the small of your back as you sucked in deep breath after deep breath. "I'll get you home and into bed as quickly as possible."

You sniffed and looked up at him. "I just want you with me. That's all I wanted all week." 

Your lips quivered, and Bradley leaned in to kiss you as softly as he could. "That's all I wanted, too. I'm not going to leave your side." He kept you right there with him as he scooped up your luggage, and then he had his arm around you until he got you to the Bronco. With a kiss to your perfect cheek, he opened the door, helped you in, and buckled your seatbelt.

"Thanks, Roo," you sighed, eyes closed as you leaned back against the headrest, already looking more serene now that you and he were together.

"I would do anything for you." He stroked your belly with his fingertips. "Both of you."

Five minutes into the drive home, you were sound asleep, your fingers laced with his.

------------------------

I can already feel how much calmer she is just knowing she doesn't have as much to worry about with Bradley by her side. And he's going to be so much less stressed with her at home. It's looking like next chapter could be the last one in this series!!!! I'm hoping to do some one-shots for them and then pick up with another series? Please let me know what you'd like to see during and after her pregnancy. And thank you for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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[mangosrar]

call it what you want pt3

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

WE HAVE CONTACT YALL

the idea of you and matt doing this whole fake dating thing was disgusting to you, but the look of complete and utter rage on jessica levries face when you walked past her with her ex boyfriends hand in the back pocket of your jeans, made you want to marry him on the spot.

the whole morning on the way to school with matt, after he insisted that he picked you up, had been complete chaos. the 10 minute car ride consisted of you screaming at him about how you regret agreeing to this, how he made you want to vomit and how you hated him and matt screaming back how annoying, how selfish you are, and how the sound of your voice made him wanna rip his own throte out.

but any outsider looking in would be jealous of the way matt smiled down at you with loving eyes as you walked down the hall, past jess, past your brother and everyone else watching and how he kissed your temple and whispered “good job” before smiling at you and walking away to head to class, leaving you in a state of utter confusion.

how had he pulled that off so well? you were a complete train wreck, sweating from head to toe, hands shaking all because of this stupid agreement, and matt just breezed right through while looking at you like you were the mother of his children.

you stood there staring at where matts body used to be before feeling someone yanking your arm to get your attention.

shit.

“what the actual fuck was that?” god if you’re listening. please spare me.

“i mean matt sturniolo? come on y/n your better than this” your brother said as you turned to face him.

you couldn’t even speak. you just swallowed and shrugged at him.

play it cool y/n.

“do mom and dad know about this?” he questioned.

“no caden” you sighed. beginning to walk away from him but he followed close behind.

“this is low y/n. you’re dating this guy? he has tattoos and shit, he smokes weed like every day and constantly turns up to practice stoned as hell” he explained. shit. how could you forget. they’re on the same fucking hockey team.

“i mean chris? maybe id let that slide, he’s a good guy. you picked the wrong fucking brother y/n” he laughed. you just closed your eyes and took a deep breath, continuing on your walk to class, trying not to turn around and murder him.

“if i’m-“ you turned around abruptly, stopping him in his tracks.

“are we forgetting that you’ve slept with half of this school? no right so keep your opinions to yourself. all i wanna know is if your gonna tell mom and dad or not” you breathed before looking at him.

“if i told them that would get you in a bunch of trouble y/n” he said before leaning down to your eye level and placing a hand on your shoulder. “of course i’m gonna fucking tell them” he said standing back up to laugh.

you bit back a smile, trying to keep your poker face before rolling your eyes and stomping away. the plan was in motion.

imesssage

matt: where are you?

y/n: in english.

matt: meet me outside of mr wilson’s class

y/n: no i don’t wanna see your ugly revolting face.

matt: don’t talk about yourself that way sweetheart.

matt: see you in 5.

douche bag.

“took your time. i was beginning to think i was getting stood up” matt said, watching you walk towards him with his hands in his pockets.

“gotta keep you on your toes” you said, coming to a stop, and looking up at him.

“i have a game on saturday and your coming to watch” he stated, licking his lips.

you crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows at him.

“are you asking me or telling me?” you questioned, looking at him as his eyes darted to something behind you, then back to yours.

“telling you” he stated flatly, beginning to chew on his lip, averting his eyes back to whatever it was behind you that was so fascinating.

“then in that case i’m not going” he didn’t even reply. you had expected a shitty comment or at least an eye roll, but he didn’t even acknowledge you as you stared at him.

“what are you looking-“ you started before you were cut off by his hand grabbing your wrist and yanking you into a empty closet and closing the door behind him.

there was a brief pause as you both stood there and every single piece of confidence you had before was ripped away in that very moment when he sauntered towards you with a shit eating grin on his face, stopping when your chest touched his.

you just blinked up at him, swallowing thickly and waiting for his next move. your heart was beating out of your chest and you were pretty sure matt could hear it as he stared down at you, studying your face for a second, before speaking.

“what’s the matter sweetheart? do i make you nervous?” he whispered, as he suddenly moved his face to the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss over your skin, making you suck in a breath. you felt him smirk against you as he moved up to the spot below your ear, letting his mouth linger there for a second while bringing his hands up to rest on your hips. you couldn’t help but let your head tip back slightly while closing your eyes. how did he have this much of an effect on you?

matt continued his actions, proceeding to leave kisses on your skin, occasionally letting his tongue dart out, leaving you almost whining.

this was not what you agreed on. the deal was no kissing or anything like that, and here you were breathing heavy, gripping his arms, while damn near ready to jump this man’s bones in the janitors closet. how did he have this effect on you? the two of you hated each-other, so why was he making you so wet?

suddenly his hands moved up to your waist, squeezing slightly, causing your eyes to snap open, and whatever trance he had you in to break.

“what the fuck!” you exclaimed, pushing him off of you, causing him to stumble slightly.

“coconut, i like that” he said referring to your perfume while licking his lips with a smirk on his face.

“are you high?” he just grinned at your questioning ,yet heavily flustered, expression before opening his mouth to speak.

“high is an understatement” he muttered. you just scoffed and shook your head.

“fuck you matt” you hissed at him.

he couldn’t help but smirk again at your words, you had given him the perfect opportunity, pretty much setting yourself up for failure.

“anytime baby” he grinned down at you, keeping his eyes trained on yours.

you wanted to fucking scream and punch his stupid, sexy, chiselled face, but instead settled for waking straight past him and out the door, bumping his shoulder with yours, but if looks could kill, matt sturniolo would be nothing more than a walking fucking legacy.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @mattslolita @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @urfavstromboli @recklesssturniolo @delimeats-000 @gloomymatt @gwenlore @nickdevora @sturnioloenthusiast @savageking3 @iammattsturniolo @sturniolos4lifee @honestlybabymiracle @jenna0rtegaswife @megamia44 @mattswifue @crazycoka @lilsstvrn

[joontroverted]

thinking about sweet single dad satoru who you could never tell is a single dad. 

this is HELLA unedited and just a brain dump lol. 

you probably should not be out tonight, especially not this late. but that's the beauty of being your own employer right, you have no boss! the only person who's gonna be holding you responsible is yourself but that's not tonight's problem. that's tomorrow you's problem.

so you're out the house too damn late, spinning on the bar stool, waiting for the bartender to fix your drink, and you spin right into the chest of someone tall. soft hands gently hold your shoulders, lifting you off of him with a melodious laugh, and you turn to see such a pretty man. just stupidly pretty. pale skin standing out in the darkness of the club and white hair slightly spiky with sweat, with his blue eyes trained on yours.

“whoa there, are you okay?” he leans in to your ear to ask.

you apologize immediately, and you see that you've made him spill his drink, causing you to apologize even more, offering up your concoction in exchange. he laughs and says that it's not even alcohol, just sprite. he even pays for your drink! you still insist on him having your drink because of how mortified you are, and after a second of consideration, he gulps it down.  

if that wasn't enough, he spend the entire night with you, hovering around you, tucking your hair behind you ear, and when you finally hit the dance floor, he dances with you like he's drunk, spinning you about and dipping you every chance he gets, no real semblance of coordination, but his charm and earnest have you beaming and blushing. 

he's flirting right? he's definitely flirting.

you ask if he's drunk once you see the pink flush spreading across his face, to which he responds saying that he’s a lightweight and doesn't even enjoy drinking. when you ask him why he accepted your drink and why he's in the club alone at all, he giggles and says he just wanted to keep talking to the pretty woman who bumped into him, silly! also it's been a long day, and he's had some family trouble, which he just wants to cool off from.

you nod, rubbing his back and out of nowhere he blurts out “my son told me i'm both clingy and avoidant at the same time, like a teenager that never developed so i better start acting like my millennial age.”

you have no idea what to say to that. 

“and funnily enough we have a father son bonding activity planned tomorrow morning and i don't even know how the fuck to go about it after that.”

“today morning,” you supply unhelpfully.

“what?” 

“it's almost 3 am, it's already tomorrow.”

“what?” he repeats, incredulously, staring into his chunky sparkly watch that looks too expensive to be here in the trenches with you. “it's fucking three am? what the fuck?? i am a stupid teenager who never grew up!” 

and in under a minute, he's up and gone.

you uber yourself home, completely sober, wondering what the fuck you just bumped into. as you near home, as pretty and charming as he was, you're glad you’re not messing with that train wreck. a dad with a whole son old enough to roast him like that? let alone the fact that he probably has some poor woman or significant other waiting at home for him as he makes poor decisions with you of all people. you really dodged a bullet with that one, you chuckle. 

***

you smile at the newest student and direct them to their seat. it's a beautiful morning, and you truly love your job. the sun is out, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fresh! you don't have even a drop of tipsiness in your body and you are well rested and excited for the class. you look up with a smile as the bell tinkles and the door opens, to welcome in the last of the students, and you see a familiar tall man's white head of hair accompanied by a sulky black haired teenager, arguing. 

“now if you could just talk to me and let us bond over these fucking flowers, that would be great! and we're already late, which is- “ his eyes meet yours. “oh.”

the teenager doesn't even bother being surprised, as he looks between the two of you with a flat look. 

“hello! good morning!” you say, trying not to sound odd.

“hi,” replies the man, blinking at you.

the teenager looks at him, and then at you again. “he has a wife,” he says before walking in and taking a seat.

“no i don't!” sputters the man. “i don't!” he insists to you, and you can't be fucked to deal with this nonsense. taking a deep breath, you gather your composure and push into the class. 

the art of flower arrangement is not something to be taken lightly. it is an art, something soothing yet there is a system to it. it's important to find your style and flow as you go through it, and you've mastered it over the years, and you hope that your students take something they can cherish from your 1 day work shop. or at least fix their father son bond. in silence.

you learn that his name is gojo satoru, and his son is megumi. you can't lie, they're good students. quiet and dedicated, listening to you explain and following your every step and instructions. you catch them helping each other out here and there and you're glad that this cheating man can actually create some beauty, despite his flaws. 

the class draws to an end in a few hours, and you’re glad to see that everyone's had a good time, from all the pictures they're taking and how almost each of them personally came up to you and commended you, some even taking your business cards. you look up and see that megumi has made his way up to you.

“he's single. no wife. just me.” 

“did he ask you to tell me that?” you snort.

“yeah. but i said i wouldn't do it.” he shrugs. “he’s a good guy. and i really enjoyed the class. thank you,” he adds awkwardly, before turning and rushing out.

that leaves you with just gojo satoru.

he's sheepish, but the boyish charm from last night is still present and as you break the ice with what megumi said, the conversation moves rather smoothly. smooth enough that even though the environment in your shop is vastly different from that of the club last night, the energy between you is the same. light and flirty at first, but he doesn't show any signs of leaving, helping, no doing most of the cleaning up of the set up, his blue eyes following and lingering on you as you flit around him. he takes every opportunity to abuse his height privilidge in helping you put things away and is surprisingly strong despite his slim build. 

you can't help but look at the strip of stomach that shows as he lifts his arms and how his forearms flex as he moves about. 

by the time you've cleared everything up, both of your stomachs are growling in hunger for lunch. he has both his and megumi's flower arrangement to take home, and you're leaning into each other's personal space and that's not even talking about how he has a large hand placed on your waist, blue eyes piercing into yours.

you're barely done eating the ramen he's cooked before you're on his lap, his hands coming up from under your shirt, kissing sloppily. he picks you up and takes you to his bedroom in his too big apartment that is neat but sparse save for the flower arrangements set at the table.

the two of you roll around in his bed, him seemingly obsessed with mapping out every inch of your body from the crook of your neck to the cushion of your soft thighs. it's not in your nature to ever move this quickly with a man, especially one that has an entire son, but soon enough you are rid of your panties as he is sinking into your heat. long and hard, he pumps into you, slowly eyes never leaving each other as he whimpers when he settles into you. what started out as slow soon becomes hurried and desperate, the cool sheets clinging to you as he buries his head in your shoulder, biting it in frustration as he has to pull out and come on your stomach. 

he’s not done with you though. mouth latched onto your clit, he sucks and sucks, pulling two orgasms out of you in quick succession till you have to push him off of your pussy, causing him to whine. 

after he cleans you up and your snuggling, he has his head on your chest 

you giggle. “megumi's not wrong. you are clingy.”

“forgive me for wanting to rest on your tits,” he grumbles, only snuggling in closer. “can we not talk about my son after we've fucked?”

you laugh and nod. “okay.”

there's some silence between you as you run your fingers up and down his spine, scritching his scalp and ruffling his hair. he almost purrs like a big happy cat.

“you know megumi's not biologically mine, right?”

“hmm, i figured,” you reply, thinking about how they more or less look nothing alike except for their hairstyle, and even that was a reach. 

“his father dumped him on me when i was eighteen and fucked off. megumi was like barely four. his father was a distant cousin. which would make megumi my distant nephew. i tried telling megumi that, so i could be like… his cool uncle. most unhelpful thing ever. i could have told him i was jesus christ himself and that wouldn't have stopped him from launching his school bag at my head at every minor inconvenience.”

the thought of anyone let alone a small angry kid you had no urge to care for throwing a school bag at your head at a whim sounds like actual hell, but satoru (what a beautiful name) has a fond smile on his face as he recalls the memory.

“you think he's moody now? oh this is nothing in comparison to what he had going on back then. he was such an angry baby. so sulky. so moody. and so unwilling to speak to me. and i had no patience for him either. we used to have these screaming matches and it's crazy to think about now. i was screaming back to an actual kid who had completed only a grand total of four trips around the sun. and here i was. eighteen and looming over him, also moody and fresh off of a break up, wondering how the hell this kid had the audacity to hate me so much.”

you press a little kiss on his forehead. “aww, you were an angsty little teenager too! like father like son!”

he pouts, pushing his nose further into your soft breast. “that's why i was so annoyed with what he said last night. i'd like to think i've gotten better. and megumi actually took it back and we did bond today. thanks to your class.”

that makes you feel warm and happy. people don't usually, well ever, see the importance in your craft, invalidating and degrading it too often. you're glad that both satoru and megumi not only enjoyed the class and did well, but also could make a good memory out of it.

“you're welcome.” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his hair.

“we've gotten through much worse without any flowers to help us through it, me and gumi. you know once he took a hammer to school and threatened to smash some kid's head in because he kept pulling the local stray dog's tail. and that was the day i was elbow deep in work and decided to put my phone on silent, and i forgot to pick him up from school. imagine the screaming match we had when we got home after i checked my phone to see 24 missed calls and had to get yet yelled at by his principal. and mid way through it he just burst into tears. and then so did i. and then we cried together as he told me that the stray was his only friend and he missed his family… that's when i finally saw that he wasn't just some annoying kid dropped off on my doorstep. he was just a baby.”

you pull back to look at him. his big doe eyes and unblemished skin, his hand kneading your breast as he thinks back fondly. you think of how gentle he was with megumi in class and how sweetly he speaks of him. you think of the past, a younger, gangly, angsty version of him.

“so were you” you say softly, brushing his hair back. you can feel him breathe in and out against your body.

“huh?” he says, looking up at you.

“you were just a baby. and you're not even thirty now. people have kids when they're past thirty and they still think they're too young. and here you are doing an amazing job! but... you're still just a baby,” you tell him gently, holding him against you.

satoru feels naked under your caring, thorough gaze. vulnerable and safe. his eyes widen as he feels comfort spreading through his body, tangling his legs with yours even more. he continues watching you as the room darkens and your eyes shut, drowsiness taking over you. 

he feels like he’s been given a miracle in hands, not for the first time in his life. and as he snuggles into your warm embrace, he decides not to resist falling this time. 

[poraphia]

"Four Medium-Sized Coffees, One Big Fat Work Crush"

lvjy!wilbur x manager!reader 1457 words • 8.9.23 request by @mrssabinecallas! "lead singer will with a manager reader! they book all their performances and bring them coffee every morning, just happy to be there with Will and their friends"

requests are still open!! dont be shy :3 pt. 2 here <-

How to be a good tour manager: 1) Bring them coffee every morning 2) Don't fall in love with the lead singer

♡♡♡

Y’know, when I signed up for this job, I didn’t expect the roller coaster of emotions and action that would come with being an on-tour manager. 

I especially didn’t think I’d end up falling for the lead singer of Lovejoy, William Gold.

I have been a stage director for concerts for a couple of years now since I graduated from university. I worked for different venues, taking up jobs such as being in charge of soundcheck and directing the lights. After years of hard work and a resume of experience, I was finally offered my first opportunity of being an on-tour manager for a rising band that was touring the world.

I have to admit, it was different. I was constantly away from home and on the road. The one thing genuinely battling this homesick feeling was the constant adventure and excitement we faced in every city. From sitting awkwardly in an Uber as the driver told us horrific stories, to running around the late-night streets tasting cuisines we had never heard of before.

I remember on the first day, I was a nervous train wreck. I spent most of that night pacing around my hotel room while occasionally practicing in the mirror how to greet the band, how to talk to them, and how to even shake their hand. It wasn’t until the peak time of 4 AM I decided that I should keep things simple (and that I should probably go to sleep because I had to wake up in three hours).

I met up with the band at our first venue for a soundcheck. When I got the text that they were arriving shortly, I ran to the nearest cafe and ordered four coffees, each with a simple shot of espresso, two scoops of sugar, and a cup of milk. It was basic, and it wasn’t guaranteed it would be something they’d love, but I was far too deep to turn back around and return the coffee. Plus, wouldn’t that be a super awkward situation? Oh, hey Mr. Barista! Sorry, can you refund me these four coffees after I walked in the blazing city heat for roughly ten minutes before—

“Hi,” A deep, posh voice caused me to snap out of my thoughts. I looked around, not even realizing I was already at the venue, and the man was holding the door for me. He was tall with disheveled curly hair and he wore a striped T-Shirt with some basic black jeans. Glasses rested on the bridge of his nose but more importantly, there was the guitar case slung across his shoulder.

“O-Oh, thank you!” I stuttered, rushing past him to avoid any more embarrassment. He softly chuckled behind me before closing the door. I turned around, half-smiling to shake off the embarrassing situation I’ve seemed to stumble in.

“You must be (y/n), right? Our manager?” He asked, his eyes trailing from my face to my lanyard, to the cardboard cupholders presenting four hot and fresh beverages. 

“Yeah!” I exclaimed a bit too loudly. Guess that’s another check on the list for what will keep me up tonight. “I, uh, I got these coffees for you guys! Just to help you guys out with the jetlag and all…” I trailed off in the end. But thankfully, the man smiled and took a random cup, slightly pursing his lips to retrieve the beverage only to flinch back, laughing.

“Holy shit, this is hot.” He chuckled. I couldn’t help but laugh along as well. “Oh, fuck, where are my manners– My name is Wilbur, Will, William, honestly call me what you like.” He shrugged. “My other mates are right there and are practicing on stage right now. There’s Ash, Mark, and Joe.” He pointed to the respective person, each calling out their name. 

We both began to walk toward the backstage area and continued talking. As Wilbur walked nonchalantly with coffee in hand, I struggled to catch up to his long strides while also maintaining the balance of the rest of the drinks.  “It’s a funny way how we all became a band actually–” He turned around. Noticing my struggle as he spared a few milliseconds so that I may catch up. Will chuckled before continuing to walk at a much slower pace.

Once we arrived in the backstage lounge, I pushed the door for him with my back. He thanked me before walking past. “Oh, (y/n), I would like to mention something–” He said, turning his head to face me. I tilted my head, anticipating. “Next time you get us coffee, I’d like mine with two cups of milk!” He smiled. “Although, it is perfect as it is anyway. I’m sure the rest of the band would love it.”

As I watched him finish up his coffee and make his way to the stage, my mind was set on a new goal:

“Find out Lovejoy’s desired coffee orders.”

From that day forward, I brought them coffee every morning. From meeting them on the tour bus, at soundcheck, to even waiting in the hotel lobby. I would listen closely to what comments they would make. If Joe slightly mentions to Ash he doesn't like sweet coffee, I'll remember to add less sugar. If I heard Mark asking around for creamer, I'll remember to put more cream. My petty rule for myself was that I wouldn't dare ask them directly about their preferences. It was a fun little game for me, and it only took Wilbur a little over two months for him to notice.

Wilbur and I were sitting in the tour bus booth area going over the set list when he brought it up. "Hey, (Y/N), can I ask you something?" He said, tapping at his cardboard cup. I looked up from the piece of paper I was writing on to meet his eyes. 

"I know what you're gonna ask– I've already asked the stage crew if we could add smoke for The Fall along with some more flashing lights during Warsaw." I explained, pointing at the paper with the pen I had in hand.

Wilbur let out a soft chuckle with the softest smile on his face. His hair covered a bit of his eyes but even then I could see the reflection of light making his pupils sparkle. His laugh caused a fluttering sensation in my chest. My hands and stomach tingled as if dozens of butterflies were dancing on my skin. Was I.. Getting flustered?

"No, no, I wasn't going to ask that." He spoke gently. I held my breath, a little embarrassed for my rambling. "Though I do appreciate it all. You've picked up so much about us as a band in just a couple of weeks." He held the end joints of my fingers between his grasp as he spoke, fidgeting with them as he talked. 

"Oh, well…" I felt the blush creeping to my face. "that is kind of my job." I chuckled.

"Also you've been getting our coffee orders perfectly I've noticed. Mark was raving to me earlier about how good it tasted. Ash even posted it in his story." Wilbur said, reminiscing on his mornings with his friends. 

I couldn't hold back the biggest smile on my face. It took every nerve of my body not to jump up on the table and do the goofiest, happiest dance of my life. Instead, I nodded and hummed, using my thumb to rub circles into his hand.

"I'm really glad to hear that. This is my first on-tour job, so here it's just–" I stumbled over my words trying to find the right phrases, but I was so overwhelmed with giddiness I just sighed. "Thank you…"

Wilbur looked back up to meet my eyes again. His cheeks were dusted with the slightest bit of pink as he examined bits of my face. I wanted to take in every feature of his as well. From the small mole near his eye to how pink his lips were. How pretty his lips are… they look so… Soft–

"(y/N)! Wilbur!" Mark called out from the other end of the bus. Immediately we pulled away from each other, sinking ourselves in our opposite-end seats from embarrassment. 

"Yeah?! What is it, Mark?" Will called out, but he dared not to turn around to face him. 

"We're in LA now! You guys ready for our last gig in the States?!" He asked excitedly.

Oh, God. 

It was the last gig. 

Which means… 

I looked over to Will, who also had a slight shock on his face as if it slipped his mind as well. 

This is it, I suppose. 

Who was I to think I would get my happy rom-com ending?

♡♡♡

my wilbur soot masterlist ~! a / n ~ i have a part two idea for this already omg should I do it?? reblogs and likes are super appreciated!! they be motivating me :33

[zarkishere]

give me your thoughts on the callanders pls

OUGFHHH I WILL !!!

soon (monday lol) the designs i made will be posted with some hcs so im sorry if i repeat some 😭😭

i think they both have naturally VERY LOUD VOICES like Karen constantly tells them to quiet down and they're like " HUH?? IM NOT YELLING--oh. nvm. " - this cuz of the thing Karen says of missing telling the boys to shut up. they yap a lot and they yap LOUDLY when they're home - Davey fights it more i think. like if he's feeling like being annoying he'll talk louder just because fuck you. (it makes Mac laugh too) - Mac's laugh is also just VERY LOUD while Davey wheezes and starts tearing up

they're a bad influence on Sean(?) like Sean is a bit mischievous by himself but together they're a NIGHTMARE because Mac and Davey will literally do whatever the fuck and Sean is like 'i wanna go too!!' - they're not allowed to go on missions alone because Shit Will Happen and they frustrate the hell out of Arthur. - one time Arthur almost had a nervous breakdown trying to get them back home. He'd be dragging one to the horses, be like 'alright, stay here', he leaves to get another, comes back...and whoever was there Is No Longer There (at some point Mac got sober enough he helped with Davey) (Davey said in a very sad drunk voice 'you betrayed me' and Mac's heart broke)

i hc Mac was a little shorter than Arthur Davey is a little shorter than Mac and a lil thinner too (you'll see that tho)

they brawl. give them 5 bucks and they will beat each other up just for funsies (and the money) - they used to defend it by saying they're just practicing - it almost worked. - folk aren't allowed to egg them on anymore. (looking at you, Jenny)

they understand each other in an almost mystical way no one else understands. they'll be in complete opposite sides on a mission and SOMEHOW know what the other is gonna do and how to help - usually they go together, though. you'd never see one without the other.

Davey doesn't remember much of Scotland so when he can't sleep he'll ask Mac to tell him stories of the place and their parents - Davey DOES remember the railway and secretly really likes trains

Davey actually hates cheating (unless Mac is playing, but he only cheats with Mac to fuck with him) - Mac tells him he's cheating when they play poker if he's losing and Davey gives him a silent glare every time

Mac literally keeps literally everything Davey gives him. He once lost a nice rock and was THIS 🤏 CLOSE to start wrecking shit if he didn't find it - it was in the back pocket of a pair of pants he forgot he used the day before - Davey cried laughing at him and Mac got really embarrassed

they argue a lot (like brothers do), but they always end up forgiving each other and patting each other on the back - (really hard, for the record. don't get a pat in the back from them, they'll split your spine in two)

Davey gets really jealous and Mac teases him about it. Like, if Mac happens to spend 'too much time' with Bill or someone else (more than 10 minutes HJKASGJASG), Davey will go over and give a NASTY glare while tapping his foot on the floor with arms crossed. - Mac pretends not to notice at first but usually relents

actually, in general they're a bit too codependent (more Davey than Mac, but they both are) - when they got separated in blackwater they both panicked REALLY BADLY and Davey had to be dragged away because even as he was bleeding out he was kicking and screaming that he couldn't bear the thought that something was happening to Mac and he couldn't help - while Mac was getting tortured by the Pinkertons he asked if Davey was okay and his last few words were him apologizing to Davey for fucking up - Davey's last words were also him apologizing to Mac for being so stupid. the whole ride to Colter he blamed himself for being too reckless and getting them split up

on a happier note i think Davey's love language is words of affection - but they're very passive-aggresive

Mac's love language is gift giving - but he won't tell it was him

[randomalistic]

first off. i can't believe that i already followed you- your spam blog -and didn't know.

second. i literally just had a dream shere i was rambling to someone about turbo using stuff from your essay. apparently it rewired my brain so hard it, and you, manifested in my dreams lol (i even made a bad joke that "you can say he's Turbo-tastic!" hah)

and congratulations on making such great work of art that is the essay, you can feel and hear the love(and hyperfixation) poured into it.

i do wonder tho, what was the hardest part when making it?

I’m so glad you enjoyed it yay :)❤️ and also recognized me from my sneo blog LOL

I feel that so horrendously much. I legit had a dream a few nights ago about someone APPROACHING ME cuz they recognized my voice from the essay (girl get an ego check) but they then said “dude it’s so obvious you’re into him” or something. And I was like. 🧍‍♀️Well you don’t have to say it out loud

Anyways you’re not the only one cuz the video haunts me too. even after its birth.

The hardest part?? Oh Man. Can I say Everything.

There were a few stretches that were REALLY TOUGH. short answer: Entire first half of the video. Also the longer parts like the Manipulation section, Turbo reveal section, and the Cybug King Candy section. I had a lot to say for these and it was tricky to condense it into something Comprehensible

Long answer:

I completely overhauled the entire first half of the video (EVERYTHING before the kart breaking scene) because I wasn’t satisfied with the writing/delivery etc. (Which was a good choice because my arguments were pretty half baked before) but oh my god that was like a week and a half of 7 hour recording and rewriting sessions it was brutal. Especially annoying because those arguments were super old and I was getting sick of thinking about them. So instead I used them as a backbone to structure better arguments and revamp the script so that kept me from going insane. However it was also really fun because I got to see my old ass arguments finally be explained to their fullest capacity. And also I got to write shit like ☝️🤓Excuse me sir your turbo is showing..

The biggest issue with this being my first ever video essay and it taking so goddamn long: you could SEE my writing/editing/voicing skills improve over the span of the video itself. Which is really cool improvement wise but REALLY . REALLY BAD CONSISTENCY WISE. Like the first half of the video is the part people are gonna see first. It SETS EXPECTATIONS. IT HAS TO BE PEAK

I think I re-edited the synopsis upwards of 5-6 times. Which makes sense as that was like the first thing I started the project with but ouhvhhhgghghr. Making a section from scratch is WAY easier than going back and having to redo something

Early on I cut out an entire fully edited/scripted/recorded 3 minute section of me talking about Megamind and its sequel because I realized. This is pointless and everyone has TALKED ABOUT MEGAMIND BEFORE AND THIS HAS NOTHIBG TO DO WITH WRECK IT RALPH. There were a lot of scrapped ideas

Audio was also really challenging, just entirely. Making sure the levels were consistent (I had absolutely zero voice volume normalization I did it all manually 😭 I’m gonna have to figure out how to do that) Also just the concept of recording my voice and having to speak out loud in a space was Real Bad for my anxiety but You Do it Scared. Had to wait until I was home alone or like 99% sure I was alone before I could say anything without worrying. Also training my voice to sound engaging and consistent was so hard and it took maybe 6 months for me to get it down. Also I had no fucking idea where to record, like at first I was recording in a CLOSET (and later under a piano??) and then I was wondering why my lines sounded so weird. Then I realized I could just Record in a room and it would sound JUST FINE. So basically uhhh every single part was the hardest part. But it was worth it and very fun I think 🫶

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

M.Wuerker

* * * *

"WE SHALL NOBLY SAVE, OR MEANLY LOSE, THE LAST BEST HOPE OF EARTH"

TCinLA

Oct 16, 2024

In what is now a little less than three weeks, the world’s oldest democracy will conclude a referendum on whether democracy will be maintained or be replaced by fascism.

I wish to hell I could write something more subtle. But there’s nothing subtle to write.

160 years ago, President Lincoln posed the choice the country face in the election of 1864 - held in the midst of the Civil War - thus: “We shall nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of earth.”

That choice is before us again.

And this time it is even more stark.

The media continues to struggle - at the infrequent times they deign to even try - to use language that clarifies all this; with rare exception, the best they can do is to call the situation “extraordinary,” “unusual,” and “unprecedented.” Or at least they consider the possibility of using those words on the few occasions where they aren’t putting all their effort into telling us “Nothing to see here, folks, move along,” that it’s just another of those every-four-year competitions between two candidates who each love America and only want the best for us.

On Monday, both Trump and Kamala Harris held campaign events.

Trump’s town hall devolved into one of the most bizarre political events of the campaign, as he stopped taking questions (that he didn’t answer when they were asked), and stood dazed and confused on the stage for 39 long minutes, listening to music as he “danced” by himself while his staff played music from his personal Spotify list and the governor of South Dakota acted like a children’s show host, clapping along to the music as if everything was completely normal.

At about the same time, Kamala Harris held an energetic and positive rally; it was well- organized, inspirational, with accompanying music from artists who personally approved use of their songs by the candidate.

Coverage of the two events was mind-boggling, as the corporate media either completely ignored Trump’s behavior, or sanewashed it by calling it “a concert,” or otherwise acted like the two events were the same. There was no mention at all that the oldest candidate to campaign for president had “sundowned” in front of his supporters for close to three-quarters of an hour. The Guardian - which should definitely know better! - and the WaPo, which one would hope might know better, both called it a “dance party.” CBS and ABC described it as an “impromptu concert.” Surprisingly, the New York Times actually called it “odd,” while NBC used the word “surreal,” to describe the event. Trump was so far gone that when he “came around” at the end, he told his supporters to be sure to “vote on January 5.”

Clearly, there is nothing Trump can do that will get the media to tell their audiences the truth about what is happening to him.

But yesterday, the receipts were there for anyone who cared to look. Trump did a live interview at an event put on by Bloomberg News and the Economic Club of Chicago. It was another train wreck.

The entire sorry show began with Trump showing up an hour late. Moderator John Micklethwait, editor-in-chief of Bloomberg News, proceeded to ask real questions regarding Trump’s economic plans, which the former “dumbest fucking student who ever walked in my classroom” (in the words of a Wharton professor whose class young Donald was allowed to AUDIT because he failed to qualify for acceptance into Wharton) answered with rants and slogans. Micklethwait - a Brit who obviously does not suffer fools easily or at all - repeatedly corrected Trump and redirected him to the actual questions. Trump doesn’t like being publicly schooled or questioned, and the interview quickly grew angry and combative. On being corrected by Micklethwait for misunderstanding how tariffs work, Trump replied (in front of an audience of people who do understand how tariffs work): “It must be hard for you to, you know, spend 25 years talking about tariffs as being negative and then have somebody explain to you that you're totally wrong.” When Mickelthwait pointed out that an analysis by the Wall Street Journal stated his plans would explode the national debt, Trump wrapped his arms around himself like a petulant 10 year old being corrected and replied: “What does the Wall Street Journal know? They’ve been wrong about everything. So have you, by the way….. You’ve been wrong about everything…. You’ve been wrong all your life on this stuff.”

As Micklethwait continued to conduct journalism with Trump, the response was more and more outlandish statements: that children could do the work of U.S. autoworkers in South Carolina, and that he would be a better chair of the Federal Reserve than Jerome Powell.

Despite the claims by Trump press spokesman Fu Manchu, er, I mean Steven Cheung, that his candidate had “won” - as if the interview was a debate - $22 Million Man Chris LaCivita decided Trump would not do another economic policy event with CNBC.

David Rothkopf of Deep State Radio hit the nail on the head: “The past 24 hours seem to have been a dividing line in the Trump campaign...and in Trump. He went from being periodically adrift and sporadically demented to being 24/7 unfit and in need of permanent medical attention. He's one cloudless night away from baying at the moon.”

That’s why it was so bracing this week to find that General Mark Milley, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, clarified remarks he had made previously to Bob Woodward for his book “War,” (which is an excellent account of how Joe Biden is the best president of the past 60 years) stating clearly:

"He is the most dangerous person ever. I had suspicions when I talked to you about his mental decline and so forth, but now I realize he's a total fascist. He is now the most dangerous person to this country, he’s a fascist to the core.”

The media was stuck. They had to talk about that. High ranking American military officers do not go around saying things like that. Ever.

In 1956, then-president Dwight D. Eisenhower - the last Republican president who didn’t either commit or knowingly benefit from treason to win his elections - spoke to a group of Republican women about the state of politics in America. He said:

“If a political party does not have its foundation in the determination to advance a cause that is right and that is moral, then it is not a political party; it is merely a conspiracy to seize power.”

Here we are, 68 years later, confronted by the fact we are not opposed by a political party, but by “a conspiracy to seize power.”

And it is up to each of us to “nobly save, or meanly lose, the last best hope of earth.”

Looking at the first day of early voting yesterday in Georgia - which exceeded the previous record in 2020 by 184% - and listening to interviews with voters who had stood in line resolutely through all the early morning glitches to be sure they voted tell reporters that they were there “to save democracy” in the words of several, “to be true to my mother and grandmother and her grandmother” in the words of one woman, I think we have a shot at doing it.

In the words of Willie Brown, the smartest politician I ever knew, “Ignore the polls and run like you’re ten points down till the real polls close, then celebrate.”

[gabessquishytum]

My horny besties, we talk a lot about orgasm denial on here, a lot of fics and headcanons where Hob's poor cock is caged for literal years, more than a hundred years in fact (I remember that one fondly). Dream comes back and he finally gets to cum and he goes back to being caged like a good boi. Beautiful.

And SO I'm gonna flip that for a minute, and say that this arrangement has the wonderful unintentional outcome of teaching Hob how to have dry orgasms. Beautiful, mindblowing, all-encompassing, spasming dry orgasms that rock Hob's world the first time he experiences it, and leaves him so lust dumb, it takes awhile for his brain to reboot.

Personally, I like to think this happens after their reunion and they're finally doing the nasty on the regular, but this could be for any of the previous years really.

Dream has absolutely been wrecking Hob's ass for hours now as per usual, practically pounding him into the mattress. And Hob feels different somehow, usually the pleasure peaks at a certain level and stays there until Dream finishes, but today, it's climbing higher and higher. Hob is frantic that he's going to come, but he can't make himself talk coherently, all that comes out of his mouth are debauched moans and whimpers, and Dream doesn't notice, too busy fucking Hob into oblivion. Then when his orgasm hits, Hob siezes and screams but nothing came out? But the pleasure, oh the pleasure, and Hob has the most blissed out, fucked dumb expression on his face.

And Dream knows, oh he knows what happened. And he is so not done with his precious pet.

-Love Yan Anon <3

I love the idea of dry orgasms!! And I really love the idea of Hob being literally fucked dumb.

Like. He can't think. He can't speak. He can only lie there and be speared over and over on Dream’s cock. He's over stimulated, his tongue is lolling and his eyes are glassy as he gazes up at Dream. He's just a dumb little toy being used by his master, and inside his heart is fluttering because he loves it so much.

Of course Dream has to find out how many time he can make his baby boy cum dry. He's curious, and he wants to see that lovely expression on Hob’s face again. So he starts a new training regime: making his sweet lover’s cock twitch and spasm uselessly as it tries to cum and nothing comes out <3 every time he manages it Hob gets a big kiss as a reward, and it's not long until he can almost do it on demand... such a good little toy. Dream is so lucky.

[invisiblegarters]

23.5 Episode 11

Last week: Sun decided not to try to go to the US to stay with Ongsa (bad choice), Ongsa tried to pretend to her family that she wasn't dating Sun and Sun was upset and outed her to them (worse choice), Aylin explained some of her issues with people (I still have thoughts about that even though I never did get 'round to posting them), and Bambam finally got hit with that clue by four and it was very adorable (those cards of hers better tell her to jump into Nida's arms and kiss the hell out of her).

So, the coming out to the parents thing. That is Ongsa's choice. That shit can be rough. You never know how people in general will react, and it's worse when it comes to family because they can cut you in ways you don't expect. And if you're not ready, you're not ready. Period. That's a decision only you can make. It's incredibly unfair of Sun to just expect her to be ready because she is.

That said, I don't think that Sun is wrong to be hurt. It stings when you are being open and proud and happy and it feels like the person you care about is ashamed of you. It doesn't excuse blurting out that you're dating when they don't even know Ongsa likes girls yet. Like. You don't know the dynamic, girl. It's not your place. I understand it as an emotional reaction but I don't like it.

I don't think that it's very fair of her to blame Ongsa for her stupidly deciding to not try for the US exchange program because Ongsa never asked for that from her, but it does feel human. I appreciate that. I appreciate that Sun is finally starting to break down a little, because she feels like she keeps making concessions for Ongsa and yet Ongsa makes none for her.

Also I totally get Ongsa being worried about her parents not accepting that she's dating a girl, but they also seemed genuinely thrilled for Aylin that she's dating Luna. They also really didn't seem bothered at all by the indication that Ongas might too be with a girl. Still, that's a fucking scary thing to do. I understand why she hasn't and it sucks that the choice to go at her pace has been taken from her.

It's messy, in short. And kind of painfully human.

So I heard that in the novel Sun acts like Ongsa is right to believe that she is unworthy of her. I have to say that I really like that here, Sun is all about building Ongsa up and being so proud to be with her.

I do feel so much for Ongsa though. It's so hard to get yourself out of the mindset of criticism, of feeling not worthy, of thinking that you'll never be good enough. And that can wreck every relationship you ever get into, not just romantic ones, because it turns them into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And okay this is obviously gonna be a long one because we're not even ten minutes in yet and look at all those words.

Good girl Alpha. I love her. That's all. I love her and it's not just my thing for Ciize okay Alpha's great. Such a lovely big sister.

I will say I do genuinely like every member of this group. And I really appreciate how eager all of them are to make Aylin know she's welcome with them, especially after the last episode.

Hahaha I still feel for Ongsa but I am also a jerk and I am getting a kick out of Luna and Aylin being super cute in front of her sad salad. I can't help it okay.

Also please please please let Charoen keep reacting like this every time Ton flirts with her:

I have to be honest I kind of ship Mawin and Ton more than Mawin and Tinh now. But i know the direction we're going. Oh yes.

Aw okay I can be back on that train, that was a good confession Mawin.

HAHAHA Charoen I love you. Love is like an art film indeed. DYING.

Oh yes it is truly so hard to be Ton. This guy. I swear to god if he were played by anyone else he'd be infuriating but AJ plays him so damn charming in spite of *waves* all that that I can't help but like him in spite of myself.

What is this soundtrack? I actually kind of love it, I won't lie. Like yes this is rough but also, even the show knows how ridiculous these two are being.

Damn Sun that was above and beyond. These girls are perfect for each other. Equally dramatic.

Did Aylin actually just run off because emotional Ongsa is too much? HA.

Genuinely this is the most hilarious breakup ever.

Girl. She told you why. Come on Ongsa.

OOOF though why am I getting Hira and Kiyoi flashbacks? Ongsa isn't as bad as Hira, thank goodness we can only handle one of those, but this whole theme of "you don't understand me/see me" is very like, to me.

Except I still think Ongsa was right about the exchange program. Will I bang this drum the rest of the show (all one episode of it)? Yes.

Uh oh looks like it's serious family talk time.

And as suspected, the parents are not bothered. They just want her to be happy. AAAAH I just love it when they make the parents understanding. I don't even care give me all the wish fulfillment on this. Lovely parents who don't tell their kids that they're going to hell for the sin of being in love always.

Welp. I did not expect to cry this ep but here we are.

Aw and then Aylin comes in with the tissue to help me laugh. Thank you Aylin I always knew you were my girl.

And ooh Alpha back in a sleeveless tee I approve.

Hahahaha oh Luna. I love what a flirt she is. She and Aylin are so damn cute together my cheeks actually hurt from smiling.

GIRL THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING. I know that giving up a huge dream sounds romantic because you're young and stupid, but it's just gonna cause cracks.

Parents are speaking sense, too. Way too many relationships fail because people don't want the person they're with, they want the person they could be. Or that they think that they should be. But I also feel like getting out of that sort of approach to them is a thing you tend to learn with age, too. Most of the time. There are people who are just really good at it right out of the gate, and there are those who never do learn. But for the most part it all balances out in the end, I think.

Okay good the exchange program is back on the table. As it should be. Yes banging that drum I can't help it. They might break up during a year apart because long distance relationships are rough. They might decide to break up before she leaves, even, to make it easier.

(do I smell a time skip? I feel like I smell a time skip)

Aw, next week is it. Well, I guess we'll see if my time skip sensors are right on Friday. And hopefully we'll get Bambam and Nida making out a little. As a treat for me personally. Or a lot I will not complain.

[threadsun]

You're right, I'm sorry, Ian is the babygirl of the people

So, Jean, right? At first Jean only messed with Ian because he thought Ian made you leave town. After a few years he just did it because it was nice to have a punching bag. After they're adults Jean goes for a regular check up at the doctor when he notices his emergency contacts are still his parent's phone numbers. It makes him pause for a minute, just string at his paper work. Would his parents really come to him if he was hurt? When he was a kid they had to, but now? Who else in this town would come if he was injured? He doesn't have any real friends. People that admire him, sure, but nobody in this entire town knows what he's like except...Jean scribbles out his parents phone numbers and writes Ian's down instead

The night after that doctors visit was the night they had sex. Nothing bad happened in the office, he just couldn't stop thinking about him. He doesn't stop messing with him but the in betweens have changed. After Jean punches Ian he softly brushes his thumb over the tender skin, calling him his beautiful little train wreck. Jean is a sadist, there's no changing that, but where he used to want to wipe every smile off of Ian's face, now he wants to cherish them, now he wants to be the one that makes them happen. If anything the bullying gets a little worse, because now that he's seen Ian show any kind of dominance he wants to see how far he needs to push him for Ian to pull his hair and treat him like a bitch. But that's just between us ; D

This is a communist cult, he is the babygirl of the people :3c

Oughhhhhh going crazy going crazy I love it sooooooo much!!!!! Jean just....... sadistic Jean........ And then wanting Ian to snap and dom him...... fuck their relationship is so screwy and amazing and I'm obsessed with it!!!!!

[umm0lly]

aftg afterthoughts

HI I FINISHED AFTG. what the actual fuck did i just spend the past three days of my life on. i am so confused at every single thing i just read but also at nothing at all. everything made sense for like two seconds.

first book thoughts: actual rollercoaster, does NOT set you up for the trainwreck that is the next two books, so confusing but also like weirdly addictive? like i feel in and out of interest here and there but it held my interest long enough

second book thoughts: SHIT GOT DARK QUICK. like holyyyy. i was just blinking at every other sentence because what actually was that book. uh. guess we in mafia now. these characters have never confused me more but also weirdly make so much sense. WHAT IS THIS. this writing style. it is killing me but i CANT PUT IT DOWN WHY CANT I PUT THE FUCKING BOOK DOWN

third book thoughts: okay hold on just one damn minute. you're telling me i suffered through the past two train wrecks FOR MAYBE LIKE 20 FULL PAGES OF ANDREIL ONLY??? ao3 i am coming for you. there is no way i cannot after being absolutely sucked into this absolute disaster of a book series. okay now actual book thoughts: so if you thought the last book was wildly dark and just wild in general HAHAHAHAHA because what the actual fuck happened in this book. again with the confusion???? im so confused???? so many things are not even attempted to be explained???? WHY CAN I NOT STOP READING. spicy scene was uh something else AND OKAY NORA IM SORRY BUT THIS... it too much. im so confused. i cant put the book down. i get 0 answers to 1000000 questions. whats the deal with like literally everybody. neil idek wtf to say to you. andrew...

so yeah karsh i love you but what the actual fuck was this. i didnt realize it possible to be so obsessed and lost in this book series whilst also hating it to its core for everything whilst also loving every single letter inked onto the page WHILST ALSO NOT KNOWING A SINGLE DAMN THING GOING ON...

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Luke and Ashton Hate Each Other Masterlist

7 Minutes in Heaven (ao3) - xdistorted_cliffordx luke/ashton T, 54k

Summary: "Who wants to play?"

Ashton is a very dedicated party-goer, being at one each weekend. It's literally his life, he thinks. Though, when he's invited to one particular party, they decide to change it up a bit and play party games after a few hours and everyone is well buzzed. Ashton's never been big into party games, but he figures why not? They're rated R games, so they're bound to be fun.

Luke hates parties. He hates spending his free time socializing, period. He would rather spend a Saturday night on the couch, watching Criminal Minds and stuffing his face with pizza. But one night, his friend forces him to go to a party. Obviously, he hates it, especially when the party games come out. He's forced to play them and he doesn't really like anyone he's going to have to play against. Luke just wants to go home before all this supposed 'fun' starts.

Little do both boys know, that one certain game is going to bring them both together and may even change Luke's usual routine of not partying or Ashton's obsession with partying.

Drum Teacher (ao3) - Larrys_Fairy luke/ashton G, 3k

Summary: Luke wants drum lessons. Michael and Calum know a guy named Ashton. Luke hates Ashton. But Michael and Calum force him to do it.

for the art of war (ao3) - cyberpunknct luke/ashton T, 43k

Summary: Luke wasn't sure exactly when his life turned into a train wreck, but he knew that it probably coincided with the day he met Ashton.

I Hate That I Don't Hate You (ao3) - lukey_irwie luke/ashton M, 4k

Summary: Or the one where they're both rising chefs who hate each other and tensions only rise when they get put on a competition show together.

Press Restart (ao3) - Yes_Kassiopeia luke/ashton E, 7k

Summary: Lashton one shot. Basically Ashton hated Luke and Luke hated Ashton. Everybody in school knew that. But when they got stuck to spend some time together they found out that maybe they didn't hate each other that much...

“What the hell?!” Ashton mutter under his breath. “What the hell?!” Luke echoed out loud not even a second later. Ashton took the sight of the desert parking lot and understand immediately. “Where is the bus?” he asked, alarmed.

Scene 14 (ao3) - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblye (daydahlias)) luke/ashton, michael/crystal, roy/calum E, 128k

Summary: the one where Luke hates Ashton but has to pretend to be in love with him for five months for his acting final except for the fact that maybe he isn't pretending anymore.

Take Me Out (to the Ballgame) (ao3) - no_clue_who luke/ashton, roy/calum, kaykay/sierra T, 35k

Summary: Luke Hemmings is the best pitcher on his team, he's happy there. He has a life with that team.

Everything changes when he gets traded to his teams rival, when he get traded to Ashton fucking Irwin's team.

He was so screwed.

Tell Me I'm Pretty (ao3) - felixandtae luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 84k (WIP)

Summary: "Wearing skirts and putting make up on doesn't make me a girl. I have a dick and I can very well show you it. Just tell me I'm pretty, Luke."

Ashton likes to wear make up and Luke likes when Ashton wears make up. But, Luke doesn't like Ashton and Ashton doesn't like Luke. So how did they end up fucking in the auditorium every Friday night?

the office (ao3) - softirwin luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 24k

Summary: Everybody works in an office and Ashton really, really hates Luke.

we are perfect (Lashton version) (ao3) - loserpolarbears (orphan_account) luke/ashton, michael/calum, calum/ashton M, 8k

Summary: „You’re an asshole.” The boy glared at him, eyes sparkling with anger. „And I’m Ashton, you seemed to remember last night when you fucked me, but I guess your memories vanish as soon as you come, right. Bye.” He said and by the time Luke realized he was talking he was already out of his apartment. Luke rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

[joontroverted]

thinking about sweet single dad satoru who you could never tell is a single dad. 

this is HELLA unedited and just a brain dump lol. 

you probably should not be out tonight, especially not this late. but that's the beauty of being your own employer right, you have no boss! the only person who's gonna be holding you responsible is yourself but that's not tonight's problem. that's tomorrow you's problem.

so you're out the house too damn late, spinning on the bar stool, waiting for the bartender to fix your drink, and you spin right into the chest of someone tall. soft hands gently hold your shoulders, lifting you off of him with a melodious laugh, and you turn to see such a pretty man. just stupidly pretty. pale skin standing out in the darkness of the club and white hair slightly spiky with sweat, with his blue eyes trained on yours.

“whoa there, are you okay?” he leans in to your ear to ask.

you apologize immediately, and you see that you've made him spill his drink, causing you to apologize even more, offering up your concoction in exchange. he laughs and says that it's not even alcohol, just sprite. he even pays for your drink! you still insist on him having your drink because of how mortified you are, and after a second of consideration, he gulps it down.  

if that wasn't enough, he spend the entire night with you, hovering around you, tucking your hair behind you ear, and when you finally hit the dance floor, he dances with you like he's drunk, spinning you about and dipping you every chance he gets, no real semblance of coordination, but his charm and earnest have you beaming and blushing. 

he's flirting right? he's definitely flirting.

you ask if he's drunk once you see the pink flush spreading across his face, to which he responds saying that he’s a lightweight and doesn't even enjoy drinking. when you ask him why he accepted your drink and why he's in the club alone at all, he giggles and says he just wanted to keep talking to the pretty woman who bumped into him, silly! also it's been a long day, and he's had some family trouble, which he just wants to cool off from.

you nod, rubbing his back and out of nowhere he blurts out “my son told me i'm both clingy and avoidant at the same time, like a teenager that never developed so i better start acting like my millennial age.”

you have no idea what to say to that. 

“and funnily enough we have a father son bonding activity planned tomorrow morning and i don't even know how the fuck to go about it after that.”

“today morning,” you supply unhelpfully.

“what?” 

“it's almost 3 am, it's already tomorrow.”

“what?” he repeats, incredulously, staring into his chunky sparkly watch that looks too expensive to be here in the trenches with you. “it's fucking three am? what the fuck?? i am a stupid teenager who never grew up!” 

and in under a minute, he's up and gone.

you uber yourself home, completely sober, wondering what the fuck you just bumped into. as you near home, as pretty and charming as he was, you're glad you’re not messing with that train wreck. a dad with a whole son old enough to roast him like that? let alone the fact that he probably has some poor woman or significant other waiting at home for him as he makes poor decisions with you of all people. you really dodged a bullet with that one, you chuckle. 

***

you smile at the newest student and direct them to their seat. it's a beautiful morning, and you truly love your job. the sun is out, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fresh! you don't have even a drop of tipsiness in your body and you are well rested and excited for the class. you look up with a smile as the bell tinkles and the door opens, to welcome in the last of the students, and you see a familiar tall man's white head of hair accompanied by a sulky black haired teenager, arguing. 

“now if you could just talk to me and let us bond over these fucking flowers, that would be great! and we're already late, which is- “ his eyes meet yours. “oh.”

the teenager doesn't even bother being surprised, as he looks between the two of you with a flat look. 

“hello! good morning!” you say, trying not to sound odd.

“hi,” replies the man, blinking at you.

the teenager looks at him, and then at you again. “he has a wife,” he says before walking in and taking a seat.

“no i don't!” sputters the man. “i don't!” he insists to you, and you can't be fucked to deal with this nonsense. taking a deep breath, you gather your composure and push into the class. 

the art of flower arrangement is not something to be taken lightly. it is an art, something soothing yet there is a system to it. it's important to find your style and flow as you go through it, and you've mastered it over the years, and you hope that your students take something they can cherish from your 1 day work shop. or at least fix their father son bond. in silence.

you learn that his name is gojo satoru, and his son is megumi. you can't lie, they're good students. quiet and dedicated, listening to you explain and following your every step and instructions. you catch them helping each other out here and there and you're glad that this cheating man can actually create some beauty, despite his flaws. 

the class draws to an end in a few hours, and you’re glad to see that everyone's had a good time, from all the pictures they're taking and how almost each of them personally came up to you and commended you, some even taking your business cards. you look up and see that megumi has made his way up to you.

“he's single. no wife. just me.” 

“did he ask you to tell me that?” you snort.

“yeah. but i said i wouldn't do it.” he shrugs. “he’s a good guy. and i really enjoyed the class. thank you,” he adds awkwardly, before turning and rushing out.

that leaves you with just gojo satoru.

he's sheepish, but the boyish charm from last night is still present and as you break the ice with what megumi said, the conversation moves rather smoothly. smooth enough that even though the environment in your shop is vastly different from that of the club last night, the energy between you is the same. light and flirty at first, but he doesn't show any signs of leaving, helping, no doing most of the cleaning up of the set up, his blue eyes following and lingering on you as you flit around him. he takes every opportunity to abuse his height privilidge in helping you put things away and is surprisingly strong despite his slim build. 

you can't help but look at the strip of stomach that shows as he lifts his arms and how his forearms flex as he moves about. 

by the time you've cleared everything up, both of your stomachs are growling in hunger for lunch. he has both his and megumi's flower arrangement to take home, and you're leaning into each other's personal space and that's not even talking about how he has a large hand placed on your waist, blue eyes piercing into yours.

you're barely done eating the ramen he's cooked before you're on his lap, his hands coming up from under your shirt, kissing sloppily. he picks you up and takes you to his bedroom in his too big apartment that is neat but sparse save for the flower arrangements set at the table.

the two of you roll around in his bed, him seemingly obsessed with mapping out every inch of your body from the crook of your neck to the cushion of your soft thighs. it's not in your nature to ever move this quickly with a man, especially one that has an entire son, but soon enough you are rid of your panties as he is sinking into your heat. long and hard, he pumps into you, slowly eyes never leaving each other as he whimpers when he settles into you. what started out as slow soon becomes hurried and desperate, the cool sheets clinging to you as he buries his head in your shoulder, biting it in frustration as he has to pull out and come on your stomach. 

he’s not done with you though. mouth latched onto your clit, he sucks and sucks, pulling two orgasms out of you in quick succession till you have to push him off of your pussy, causing him to whine. 

after he cleans you up and your snuggling, he has his head on your chest 

you giggle. “megumi's not wrong. you are clingy.”

“forgive me for wanting to rest on your tits,” he grumbles, only snuggling in closer. “can we not talk about my son after we've fucked?”

you laugh and nod. “okay.”

there's some silence between you as you run your fingers up and down his spine, scritching his scalp and ruffling his hair. he almost purrs like a big happy cat.

“you know megumi's not biologically mine, right?”

“hmm, i figured,” you reply, thinking about how they more or less look nothing alike except for their hairstyle, and even that was a reach. 

“his father dumped him on me when i was eighteen and fucked off. megumi was like barely four. his father was a distant cousin. which would make megumi my distant nephew. i tried telling megumi that, so i could be like… his cool uncle. most unhelpful thing ever. i could have told him i was jesus christ himself and that wouldn't have stopped him from launching his school bag at my head at every minor inconvenience.”

the thought of anyone let alone a small angry kid you had no urge to care for throwing a school bag at your head at a whim sounds like actual hell, but satoru (what a beautiful name) has a fond smile on his face as he recalls the memory.

“you think he's moody now? oh this is nothing in comparison to what he had going on back then. he was such an angry baby. so sulky. so moody. and so unwilling to speak to me. and i had no patience for him either. we used to have these screaming matches and it's crazy to think about now. i was screaming back to an actual kid who had completed only a grand total of four trips around the sun. and here i was. eighteen and looming over him, also moody and fresh off of a break up, wondering how the hell this kid had the audacity to hate me so much.”

you press a little kiss on his forehead. “aww, you were an angsty little teenager too! like father like son!”

he pouts, pushing his nose further into your soft breast. “that's why i was so annoyed with what he said last night. i'd like to think i've gotten better. and megumi actually took it back and we did bond today. thanks to your class.”

that makes you feel warm and happy. people don't usually, well ever, see the importance in your craft, invalidating and degrading it too often. you're glad that both satoru and megumi not only enjoyed the class and did well, but also could make a good memory out of it.

“you're welcome.” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his hair.

“we've gotten through much worse without any flowers to help us through it, me and gumi. you know once he took a hammer to school and threatened to smash some kid's head in because he kept pulling the local stray dog's tail. and that was the day i was elbow deep in work and decided to put my phone on silent, and i forgot to pick him up from school. imagine the screaming match we had when we got home after i checked my phone to see 24 missed calls and had to get yet yelled at by his principal. and mid way through it he just burst into tears. and then so did i. and then we cried together as he told me that the stray was his only friend and he missed his family… that's when i finally saw that he wasn't just some annoying kid dropped off on my doorstep. he was just a baby.”

you pull back to look at him. his big doe eyes and unblemished skin, his hand kneading your breast as he thinks back fondly. you think of how gentle he was with megumi in class and how sweetly he speaks of him. you think of the past, a younger, gangly, angsty version of him.

“so were you” you say softly, brushing his hair back. you can feel him breathe in and out against your body.

“huh?” he says, looking up at you.

“you were just a baby. and you're not even thirty now. people have kids when they're past thirty and they still think they're too young. you're still just a baby,” you tell him gently, holding him against you.

satoru feels naked under your caring, thorough gaze. vulnerable and safe. his eyes widen as he feels comfort spreading through his body, tangling his legs with yours even more. he continues watching you as the room darkens and your eyes shut, drowsiness taking over you. 

he feels like he’s been given a miracle in hands, not for the first time in his life. and as he snuggles into your warm embrace, he decides not to resist falling this time. 

[citrinebunny]

Ending up in your dreams is the point, sweetness. If you wake up one morning so wet and worked up that you just have to slip a hand inside your panties before you can even begin to think of functioning, I did my job. I don’t think you would tease yourself enough, though. Certainly not as much as I would tease you, baby. You’re just too much of a greedy slut to take your time, probably rubbing your clit hard and fast as you try to keep yourself quiet, biting your lip, your pussy clenching around nothing as you come. Or maybe you’ll run off to bathroom instead to use that shower head on your clit until your legs nearly give out on you, moaning against the hand clamped over your mouth so no one knows what you’re doing. Am I wrong?

I would take my time with you, even while you begged me to fuck you, pushing my cock into you nice and slow so you feel every inch. You want it harder? Too fucking bad. You always go on and on about getting fucked hard and fast, but I think going slow would absolutely wreck you, sweetheart. You could take it. You would take it. I wouldn’t give you a choice, baby, getting one of you legs up over my shoulder so I could bury my strap deeper in that pretty cunt, my thumb rubbing tight little circles on your aching clit. You couldn’t do anything but take it, just my pretty, pathetic fucktoy with her legs obediently spread so she can take my strap. Oh, I could make you even more of a needy little slut than you already are, whimpering every time you feel the stretch of my cock in your needy cunt, crying and begging for me to go harder (and I know you would so fucking cute, ‘please fuck me, please, pleasepleaseplease-’) but you wouldn’t convince me at all, no matter how nicely you asked me. I’d just go slower, or maybe just stop moving entirely.

I would keep the strap inside you, of course, buried all the way inside your cunt as I held you in place. You would be my pretty little cockwarmer until you proved to me you could behave like a good little whore and take it how I want you to. You would do that for me, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?

Sweet dreams, pretty girl.

- 💕

you spoil me!! even without wet dreams, i normally wake up and start touching myself because you’re right, i am greedy <3 i love cumming, and i rarely can bring myself to wait for more than 20 minutes. i like getting what i want!!

fucking me like that would absolutely ruin me. i’d be such a sobbing mess under you, desperately trying to rock my hips down to take more of your cock, only stopping once you lay a nice slap on my ass or tits. maybe even a slap to my clit. that’s exactly how i would sound too, begging until my voice is scratchy and my throat is sore. i’d finally stop trying to move on my own after a while, probably, and i’d cum all over your strap the second you started moving again. without permission, i know :( but i’m just a dumb little bunny, too desperate and wet to know what’s best. you’re so willing to correct me though, to train me to be your perfect little whore. <3

[acowardinmordor]

Preshow Checks

“Fucking hate you, Harrington,” Eddie hissed, “You’re horrible, and I hate you. Don’t ever do this again. You’re never allowed backstage. Never allowed at a show. I’m having you banned. Every venue. All of them. Everywhere. Christ I fucking hate you.”

Steve winked, because that was as much as he could do just then.

Eddie changed his grip, getting a better hold with his left hand, and kept fucking his boyfriend’s face. Their opener was on their second to last song, in fifteen minutes he was walking on stage for his first headlining concert, there were at least five thousand people out there, and Eddie was in a lighting storage closet, losing his damn mind next to some broken PARcans and a busted amp. 

Steve swallowed after a hard thrust, keeping to just a gag, instead of needing a pause. His eyeliner was a mess, smeared and smudgy, and in a few seconds, it would streak down his face when the tears in his eyes overflowed. He only ever wore it for Eddie, only dressed like this for a concert. He never walked around in tattered black clothes with spikes or wore docs or put on eyeliner and mascara with a little glitter on his cheekbones and the prettiest shade of pink lipstick that always stained around his mouth once they got going.

That wasn’t Steve, but Steve was his, and his boyfriend was amazing, so he dressed the part for Eddie. 

Eddie stopped thrusting for a second, wiping away a tear and letting Steve take a breath. Not a full breath. His mouth was still full of dick, but his throat was no longer blocked. His hands clung to Eddie’s jeans, barely pulled down, only opened enough to get his dick out. Never mind underwear, he didn’t bother for a show, not when he was wearing pants that tight, not when he knew the crowd appreciated it, and especially not when he knew Steve would be there. 

“Worst boyfriend. Awful. Terrible. Why do I put up with this?” Eddie asked. 

Steve’s eyes crinkled, and he pulled his own hair so he could slide forward and get Eddie back where he belonged. 

“Fuuuuck, I love you so much, baby. God yes, just like that. Fuck you, you’re the worst.”

And they were back to it. 

Steve was red faced from lack of air, even before Eddie brought up his other hand to hold him still, and really use him. By the time Eddie shoved deep and came, Steve’s hands were clutching at him, clinging to him, but never trying to escape. Better, worse, amazing, Steve kept his eyes up, fluttery and overwhelmed as he swallowed. He could barely manage the angle when Eddie was that deep. With his chin against his balls, and his nose touching his stomach, Steve needed help, and Eddie gladly gave it, leaning back. Steve stayed there, full and fuzzy, and looking up because he knew that Eddie wanted to see it.

Damn right he wanted to see it. 

Blotchy now, smeared and streaked and wrecked, Steve’s eyes twinkled with the kind of smug accomplishment Eddie had accidentally trained him to chase. He could play Eddie flawlessly, knew exactly which buttons to push, and used it strategically. In theory, he would never get tired of seeing his baby choking on his dick, dressed like a groupie, but it happened - not rarely, but randomly. No warning, no hints. Out of the blue.

Charming second grade teacher’s assistant one day, cock starved, punky slut the next. 

Holy shit he loved his boyfriend. 

Steve gasped in a breath when he was finally allowed one. His lips were bright and wet, and now that he could, that incredible smirk was back, weakened a bit by his need for oxygen, but sexier because of it. He started putting Eddie’s dick away, but the pants were actually ridiculous, so he dropped onto his heels to let Eddie take care of it. 

Since Steve was a sneaky bastard who used his charms for evil to get backstage unannounced, Eddie only had time to realize who it was before the door was closing and Steve was on his knees. When he dropped back, Eddie actually saw the outfit. 

Holy shit he hated his boyfriend.

“You’re wearing a skirt. Shit. Fuck. Why are you wearing a goddamn mini skirt. What the fuck, baby. Are you trying to kill me? How are you even. Baby you’re going to get arrested for indecent exposure if you bend over. Holy shit.”

Mini skirt. Plaid fucking miniskirt. A pair of fishnets that Eddie knew for a fact no longer had a crotch. That shirt was only a shirt because it was on his chest. It was more like metal band lingerie. 

“Christ, fuck, did I forget an anniversary? Birthday? Why are you trying to kill me, babe?”

Steve stood up, with a cute expression and mind blowing outfit, pulled a wet wipe from… somewhere, and cleaned off enough smeared pink and tears to walk around in public. With Eddie in show boots, they were the same height. A quick peck, not wanting to fuck up the meticulously messy black lipstick, and Steve squeezed his hands over Eddie’s hips.

“You’ve been stressing about this since you got the gig a month ago. You always get in your head while you wait backstage, you can’t focus until the first song ends, you’re opening with the one you wrote about me, and I am a very good boyfriend, so I wanted to help.”

“You’re the worst and I hate you.”

“I know.”

“That skirt should be illegal, how are you wearing that?”

“Don’t worry. I bought something to make it decent. It’s pink. Comfy. Reminds me of my swim uniform.” Steve winked. Another quick peck. “You play better when you’re horny, but not stressed. I did my part; time to do yours. You need to go, the band saw me go by, so they know where you are, but I bet the stage manager is losing her mind.”

“I hate you.”

“Of course you do, sweetheart. That’s why I’ll be waiting back here for the encore.”

“I’ll give you an encore,” Eddie grumbled, finally buttoning his pants and fastening the belt. 

“Gotta do a show first, baby.”